Baby You Can Drive My Car
by Babylon By Candlelight
Summary: Delilah has everything a girl could want... except one thing.
1. Chapter 1

There are many advantages to being emancipated at the tender age of fifteen. But really, it isn't about the huge mansion with eighteen floors, complete with a roof deck and platinum plated hot tubs, or the thirteen thousand imported horses straight from Vienna. It has nothing to do with the billions of dollars I'm given by my heartless, neglectful parents, or the fact that if they fail to cough it up, I can have them sentenced to at least fifteen years in prison for tardy payments. It's not even the Lamborghini, or the special, court-ordered driver's license from Judge Anderson that allows me to drive it legally, as fast as I want, anytime I want. I won't lie – those are nice perks. But the real, true, wonderful thing about being emancipated at age fifteen, is that I can find out who I really am without horrible, unfair rules reigning me in.

Who am I?

I'm Delilah Darlette Darling.

Of course, that's just a name. And I'm more than just a name. Much, much more. But to get the idea of the real me, of course one would want to know what I look like. I won't lie – I'm nothing special. My pale blonde hair the colour of silken-spun sunshine falls to my waist in soft, touchable ringlets; but like sunshine, there are so many different hues, indescribable and tantalizing. In the right lights, my hair can appear auburn, crimson, even a deep, rich sienna. My beautiful hair frames a face with smooth, creamy skin, almost porcelain in its complexion, and as unblemished as a block of fresh marble, waiting to be sculpted into magnificent art. Inset in this marble are two eyes the precise colour of emeralds; but like the emerald, my eyes too are inconsistent, switching from dark, swirling forest green to a light, almost translucent jade. My lips are a rosy pigmentation, usually smiling, lending a certain happy, radiant quality to my face.

Because of the financial arrangement set down by the judge, I can afford to dress well. And I do. Not too well though, you know? I don't want my friends thinking I think I'm better than them, even though they don't live in an eighteen story mansion, or have a Lamborghini. I don't think this makes me a better person, just smarter. They're still living with their parents, having to wash the dishes, and clean their rooms, and sometimes help with dinner. I got rid of all those horrible things a long time ago. But I don't like to think about my dark, painful past. I'm better off now, without the terrible things my so-called "parents" put me through. I don't want to dwell on the melancholy memories. I'd rather look towards my bright, promising future.

You see, I can buy a lot of things. I mean, a LOT of things. But I'm still not happy. I can never be happy, not without the one thing I truly want. And sadly, the thing I truly want is the one thing I can't use my vast, vast fortune to acquire.

What I truly want… is Justin Bieber.


	2. Chapter 2

It gets lonely sometimes, being emancipated and perfect. None of my friends understand how hard my life is. They're so selfish. Anytime I try to talk about my problems, no one wants to listen. Cara would rather whine about her little brother's hospitalization, and Denise can't get past her parents and their impending divorce. I mean, please. Like either of those things matter, when I can't find the right colour of nail polish. The world is a bad enough place without adding chipped, unpolished nails to the mix, am I right?

And that's why I want Justin. I just know he'd understand everything about me. He's the only person I've ever seen who is as beautiful as I am. We even look a little alike! His brown hair looks so soft, like it's just begging to be ruffled. And paired with his sparkling brown eyes? Ugh, just.. he's a heartthrob, plain and simple. But it's more than that. I see past the beautiful, perfect exterior, to the beautiful, perfect INTERIOR. He seems like he'd know there's more to life than fifty hot tubs and an eighteen story mansion; he'd be able to enjoy the simpler pleasures, like filling my Olympic size swimming pool with whipped cream and diving head first into the fluffy goodness… the fluffy goodness, just like our love. Sweet, sugar-filled romance. Le sigh.

Without Justin though, my life is bleak. It's night after night of joyriding in the Lamborghini after dark, street races, then coming home and sobbing away my sorrows in my favourite, sparkling cider filled hot tub on the observation deck. After that, there comes the writing of poetry in my black leather journal (black, because of how empty and emotionless my heart is) and spilling all my deep, untold secrets to pages that can't comfort me. Like the time I lost my favourite mood ring in the bowling alley under my room. Like, ugh. It was devastatingly depressing, and Cara didn't even care how very appalled I was. Justin would care.

Tonight is no different from any other night. Alone with my 90-inch LED flat screen, watching Twilight in the dark. Edward Cullen is soo cute (though not as cute as Justin, amirite?), and he loves Bella sooo much. All of a sudden, there came a knock at the door! I stood up and took the elevator down to the ground floor (I have super sensitive hearing so I can hear knocking even on the seventeenth floor, guys), and flung open the door. There was.. a boy!

"W-what do you want?" I gasp, clutching my chinchilla fur robe tighter around me in fear and excitement. This was a SERIOUSLY cute boy, you guys. Blond hair, soft and carelessly arranged, and deep, brooding blue eyes.

"Hey there chickypoo, my car broke down," he all but purred. "Can I like, use your phone?" Then his eyes widened as he looked at me, like he was seeing me for the first time. It made my heart skip a beat, like when I jumped rope as a child and fell on my face, and broke my nose, and lyke my Mom TOTES wouldn't pay for reconstructive surgery. But that's okay, because with the court-ordered alimony payments, I got my OWN nose job and she COULDN'T TELL ME NO. But that's another story.

"Oh, sure," I reply, giggling a bit despite myself. He was just so cute, and the way he talked was like, heaven to my ears. "You can use my cell phone."

He came in the house, and said…

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Chapter 3

His lips were moving, but I couldn't concentrate. All I could focus on was how cute he was. Seriously, you guys, you have no idea. He was just like, so cute. Adorable, even. His light blond hair was just as silky and fine as mine, but manlier. He was totes manly. His manly blue eyes, his manly hair, his manly little freckles that seemed to march across his nose like little ants at a picnic… he was just manly! Even his teeth, so pearly white and clean, seemed to ripple with muscle-y buffness, which like, I didn't think was possible! And his eyes… his beautiful, strong blue eyes, which now were narrowed at me as if he were… annoyed!

"Hey. You. Blondie. Are you even listening to me?" The sharpness of his voice like… startled me. No one's ever talked to me that way before! I was instantly intrigued.

"Sorry, I think I like, seriously spaced out!" I giggle, brushing my blonde hair away from my pretty face and looking up at him through my eyelashes, which sparkled just as daintily as my hair in the low light.

His manly blue eyes flashed with fire, and I felt my breath WHOOSH out of me (though totes more ladylike, you know?); there was a darkness that lay behind those eyes that was both exciting and terrifying, as though he were struggling to contain some black, haunting secret just begging to be unleashed upon the world. I somehow just KNEW that if I continued to aggravate him, he'd pour forth the contents of his heart. And maybe… just maybe… I could heal him.

"HELLO?"

"Oh! You did not just SHOUT at me!" I squeal, stamping my foot angrily. Tortured soul or not, that is just like, completely unacceptable.

"Let me make this easy for you. You. Give. Phone. Me." His voice was tight and rough, his cheeks burning with colour high on his face, lending him a beautiful, manly quality. He was obviously angry. This was going according to plan! I'm so totally brilliant. I'll know his eye-darkening secret in no time!

"Oops!" I exclaim, dropping my phone onto the marble floor by total "ACCIDENT" (like for sure) and giggling in the most adorable fashion anyone has ever giggled, evar, as it shattered! "I'm suchhh a klutz! Sorry!"

"What is your PROBLEM?" he yelled, looking manly and attractive as his voice boomed throughout the echo-y foyer (tastefully decorated to resemble Disneyland you guys, I mean, it's not like I don't have the money!).

"STOP LYING TO ME!" I scream back, hair flying out behind me in a fluttery, rage-filled fashion. My hands clenched at my side. "I know you're hiding something from me! WHAT IS IT?"

"I can't TELL YOU," he shouted, his manly cries reverberating around the room. "I can't tell ANYONE. NO ONE can understand how hard it is for me!"

"I'll understand! I've had a hard life too!" I bellow back, waving my arms around. "My parents made me do DISHES! And clean my ROOM! And sometimes I had to go to bed before MIDNIGHT! Who else, but me, would be able to understand your pain?"

"No one can ever know my dark secret! You don't know what it's like! Everyone either loves me or hates me, no one really CARES about me! They all think I'm some kind of joke... some kind of BABY! OH!"

He continued to rant, but I was no longer listening, like before. Only unlike before, I wasn't JUST distracted by his shiny hair, or the shiny marble floor, or anything else that was shiny. No, I was frozen in place. Because I'd heard that voice before, in my dreams, in my heart, in my mind. And I knew. All at once… I knew.

"Oh my Ange," I whispered numbly, more of a muted exclamation than a plea to my personal deity of choice. "I…I know what you are."

He gazes at me for a moment, then nods grimly, his voice gravelly and resigned. "Say it."

My lips moved silently, unable to formulate speech. He spoke again, harshly. "OUT LOUD."

And this time… this time I managed it.

"Bieber."


End file.
